


standing there with nothing on, (she's gonna teach me how to swim)

by teawithhoney



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Dark Academia, F/F, Secret Society, a dark edgy secret society and all the Starks are alive? sign me up, also we love an extended extended metaphor so Margaery is captain of the swim team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teawithhoney/pseuds/teawithhoney
Summary: Sansa Stark was a good girl. She wore her skirts to just above the knee and her blouses buttoned all the way to the top. She wore frilly ankle socks in every pastel colour imaginable and alternated between smart, white tennis shoes and sensible, brown brogues. Her long, ginger hair was always swept up into a chic up-do or hung in loose waves, expertly curled with the pretty pastel-pink rollers she kept at her vanity.Sansa played tennis four times a week, volunteered on weekends and spent the rest of her time studying at one of the best universities in the country. She could speak four languages – English, French, Italian and Latin – and came from an exceptionally rich and powerful family. In short, Sansa Stark was an exceptionally nice, talented and intelligent girl.Sansa’s boyfriend, Joffrey Baratheon, had many of the same qualities. He was rich, from an important family, studied at the very same prestigious university, and, Sansa believed, cheating on her with half of the student body.





	1. I

Sansa Stark was a good girl. She wore her skirts to just above the knee and her blouses buttoned all the way to the top. She wore frilly ankle socks in every pastel colour imaginable and alternated between smart, white tennis shoes and sensible, brown brogues. Her long, ginger hair was always swept up into a chic up-do or hung in loose waves, expertly curled with the pretty pastel-pink rollers she kept at her vanity.

 

Sansa played tennis four times a week, volunteered on weekends and spent the rest of her time studying at one of the best universities in the country. She could speak four languages – English, French, Italian and Latin – and came from an exceptionally rich and powerful family. In short, Sansa Stark was an exceptionally nice, talented and intelligent girl.

 

Sansa’s boyfriend, Joffrey Baratheon, had many of the same qualities. He was rich, from an important family, studied at the very same prestigious university, and, Sansa believed, cheating on her with half of the student body.

 

But her parents insisted he was a good match for her and after all, Sansa was a good girl who kept her mouth shut and did what her parents told her. _Family comes first._ It’s what Sansa told herself, ran it over and over and over again in her mind as if it was on a loop. Family first, family first, family first. It’s what she told herself when Joffrey constantly came home late to her flat after partying all night, it’s what she told her when he openly flirted with girls in front of her and it’s what she told herself when Joffrey mocked her, belittled her and put her down.

 

She was running it over in her head when her, Joffrey and a couple of his friends were cheering on the university swimming team. The team was the best in the country and was currently facing off against the team from the neighbouring university. _It’s a shame_ , Sansa thought, _they really don’t stand a chance_. She watched as their team dominated the pool, the dark-green – the university colour – of their swimsuits ploughing through the water. She focused silently on the sound of splashing water, the tang of the chlorine hitting the back of her nose, and the sound of her boyfriend, Joffrey, telling his friends just how attracted he was to the swim team captain. It hurt her, _of course it did_. She felt her eyes glazing over with tears and her vision begun to go foggy. Family first, family first, family first. She repeated the mantra in her head until she regained her focus and controlled her emotions. _It shouldn’t hurt this much anymore_ , Sansa thought, _not when he’s done it so much already._

 

“A girl like that ought not to be in a such a tiny, tight swimsuit,” Joffrey said to his friends, voice laced with malice. “If she doesn’t want to give people ideas.” Joffrey’s friends laughed loudly and patted him on the back. Sansa wished the ground would swallow her whole. She was desperate to have them talk about something – anything – else.

 

“Joffrey,” she sing-songed, voice light and airy, “Are you still coming to dinner at my family’s tonight?” Sansa had been planning it for weeks. It was for her little sister, Arya’s, birthday and she was throwing a surprise party. She was desperate for it to be a success and had spent weeks organising the caterers, the flowers and the entertainment. Sansa knew it might not be to Arya’s taste, but she so rarely got to see her while at university, she knew Arya would appreciate all the hard work Sansa had put in even if parties weren’t exactly her thing.

 

Joffrey turned to look at her, disgust and annoyance weaved into the patchwork of his stormy expression. It’s as if he couldn’t bear to look at her for more than a few minutes at a time, as if holding her gaze was painful to him. Sansa knew Joffrey didn’t like her, perhaps he even disdained her, but he dated her for the same reason she dated him. Family came first. The Baratheon’s were undoubtedly a powerful and rich family and Joffrey’s mother was a Lannister, perhaps the richest family in the country. Sansa was a good match for a boy like Joffrey – the Starks were old money and their name carried weight. A Stark was a loyal and honest partner to have by your side. They were, essentially, a safe bet to a family with Baratheon and Lannister blood. 

 

However, Sansa couldn’t help but feel she was little more than a prized mare being sold off to the highest bidder to secure business and marriage ties between powerful families. It was the twenty-first century, yet their families were still operating as if it were a couple of hundreds of years ago. Her mother had always taught her that this was her duty, she had said, “We are not like other families, we have responsibilities that normal people do not.” Sansa had hated hearing that, as if their money and power made them any better than other people. She’d also hated who they had chosen for her.

 

“I’m sorry, Sansa, I’m going to have to take a rain check.” Joffrey said, almost snidely, as if he got off on letting Sansa down. “The boys and I are heading to a party tonight to let off some steam.”

 

“And check out the winning swim team, who will no doubt, be in all their glorious attendance.” Joffrey’s friend, the taller of the two, mumbled under his breath. The other friend caught it and sniggered.

 

“You can’t take a rain check for Arya’s birthday,” Sansa told him, wishing her face wasn’t conveying how upset and desperate she felt. “It happens once a year. Plus, we never get to see her.”

 

Joffrey looked over at her in disbelief, as if he was surprised that she would stand up for herself against him. The shock faded from his face as anger descended onto his features – his eyes narrowed, and his top lip wavered slightly. “Sansa, I can’t believe you’re being so selfish. You know how hard I’ve found the last few weeks with my internship and coursework, so I can’t believe you would ask this of me.” Joffrey said, smug satisfaction rolling off his tongue with every word. “You think I want to go to your stupid sisters’ birthday, after she seriously injured me?”

 

He raised his eyebrows, awaiting a response and all Sansa could do was smile as she remembered Arya accidentally-on-purpose kicking him under the table at the last Stark family dinner after he’d insulted Sansa in front of her entire family. She quickly covered her growing smile with a cough.

 

“Of course, Joffrey, it was stupid of me to ask. Let’s just forget about it.” Sansa said, adopting the cheery persona she so often did to deal with him. She’d adopted it the very first time they’d met. She was fifteen and it was the annual Stark charity gala. The Baratheon’s had been in attendance and were keen to secure a partner in the Stark family. As such, Sansa and Joffrey had been pushed together. Sansa didn’t think she had ever seen a boy as handsome as Joffrey. Even at sixteen, he had begun to fill out and his jade-green eyes and golden hair made him look otherworldly, almost godly. And like a God, Sansa had treated him. It was as if he could do no wrong, as if he knew everything there was to know. Sansa worshipped the very ground he walked on. She was so sure that he was the one. Joffrey was her Prince Charming and even as her parents reassured her that she could break it off if she wasn’t comfortable, Sansa maintained and defended that Joffrey was to be her future husband. Oh, how she regretted the decisions of her younger self.

 

Joffrey gave Sansa one last disdainful sneer before he turned his attention back to the swimming match. By now, the girl that had caught his attention had emerged from the water and removed her swimming cap, allowing her soft-brown curls to tumble down her back. Sansa felt uncomfortable for the girl, knowing that the disgusting gaze of Joffrey and his friends were fixed on her body. Sansa would have felt so uncomfortable showing so much of her body in front of so many people, but the doe-faced girl appeared very comfortable striding around the pool and laughing with her friends. _If only I looked like that_ , Sansa thought, perhaps pathetically, _maybe Joffrey would love me then._

_Joffrey wouldn’t like you if you were the most gorgeous woman on earth._ Sansa thought. _He only wants what he can’t have, and you have given yourself to him too easily, time and time again._ The last race came to a finish and cheers erupted from the stands and as everyone jumped up to celebrate, a sea of dark green banners emerged from supporters. The girls on the swim team joined in the celebration, throwing their hands up in the air and hugging each other.

 

Despite the sound of the crowd, Sansa could still hear Joffrey as he whispered to his friend, “I bet you hundred bucks, I’ll have the captain of the swim team in my bed by the end of the night.”

 

Sansa pretended she hadn’t heard.

 

 

*

 

Sansa had had to rush to get to her family’s house on time. From her university, it was a three-hour car journey _exactly_. Sansa was a sensible driver, she never broke the speed limit, she never made stupid mistakes and she indicated like a pro. However, as she pulled into her hometown, she had never wanted to break the speed limit so badly.

 

Luckily, she pulled into the drive of her home, Winterfell Manor, with half an hour to spare. She welcomed the familiar crunch of gravel underneath the wheels of her car as she pulled up to the entrance, leaving her car to the valet to park.

 

“Miss Stark,” he greeted curtly. “Welcome home.”

 

“It feels good to be back,” she said, smiling politely. She inhaled, welcoming the cold air that filled her lungs. She loved the cold. Despite her family home only being three hours north, the temperature dramatically decreased here. She couldn’t help but beam as the welcome cold chill burned her cheeks and nose.

 

Sansa quickly grabbed her suitcase from the boot of the car before the valet drove around to the garage, situated on the left side of the house. She closed her eyes, focusing on the cold and the car engine getting quieter and quieter until it disappeared. Winterfell Manor was more than just Sansa’s home; it was the one thing in the world that made her feel safe and secure. Nothing could hurt her here.

 

Sansa was just beginning to ascend the staircase to her front door when the first flurry of snow appeared in the dark sky above. She outstretched her hand, feeling the sharp chill of a snowflake as it hit her palm. She let her fingers move in a rhymth, weaving among the falling snowflakes. _She was home_.

 

The double doors swung open, drawing Sansa from her efforts to catch the snowflakes in her hands. She looked up to see her older brother, Robb, standing in the doorway. His brown hair was messily dishevelled, and the entirety of his front was covered in flour. A smudge of blue icing rested on his cheekbone.

 

“Even the snow came to greet you,” Robb joked, a wide smile spreading across his face. “It’s good to see you, sister.” Sansa ran towards him, leaving Robb hardly enough time to process what was happening. She pulled him into a bear hug, trapping his arms by his side.

 

“I missed you so so _so_ much,” Sansa told him, her voice slightly muffled from her face being pushed into his chest. Robb managed to free his hands from Sansa’s hug and wrapped them around her in return. After a while, they broke apart. “How is everyone?” she asked.

 

“Everyone is well,” Robb informed her as they entered through the door and into the hallway. Sansa deposited her suitcase by the grand staircase in the hall. Robb shut the door behind them. “We’re all excited for tonight. Mum and Dad are managing the staff, Jon and Theon are putting up decorations and Bran and Rickon are intent on tearing them all down. It’s a relentless circle.” Sansa laughed loudly. _It felt so good to be home._

“And Arya?” Sansa asked as they enter the hallway.

 

“Still not due for another forty-five minutes,” Robb informed Sansa. “She’s been caught in a traffic jam.” Sansa liked everything to run like clockwork, but on this one occasion, she felt it may be to her benefit that Arya was running late. It left her more time to get ready and check everything was in order. Suddenly, Robb raised his eyebrows. “Where’s Joffrey?”

 

“Last I checked, Joffrey was betting his friend that he could get the captain of the university swim team into his bed by the end of the night.” Sansa tried to sound powerful and unconcerned as she said it, but the insecurity in her voice was obvious. Robb noticed and shook his head.

 

“I can and _will_ kill him,” Robb told her. He looked angry but seemed to be controlling it well. “Whenever you decide to give me the word.” Sansa smiled half-heartedly in response.

 

“Family comes first,” she said resignedly with a sigh.

 

“Family comes first,” Robb repeated but his eyes looked full of sadness as they focused on Sansa.

 

Robb had never approved of the match. He knew something about Joffrey was _off_ and he had begged of his parents to stop the pairing, but Sansa had wanted it so badly that her begging outweighed Robb. Eventually her parents gave into Sansa’s wishes, after all, it was her that was to eventually be married to him. _How right he had been_ , Sansa thought now, _if only I had listened to my brother and not been such a silly little girl with high hopes and a wild imagination._

 

“And everything is going to plan?” Sansa asked. “Catering, staff, flowers, the band?”

 

“Okay, so don’t freak out,” Robb said, becoming nervous. “But the flowers aren’t here yet.”

 

“What?” she said anxiously. “How are they not here yet? They were meant to arrive this morning. This can’t be happening; this can’t be happening. What will we put on the tables, Robb?”

 

Robb laughed it off. “I’m only teasing, Sansa. They’re due to arrive any minute now. There were a lot of last-minute orders and they never would have been able to send it through any normal postage system.”

 

“Well, how are we going to get them?” Sansa asked, nervously tugging on the hem of her baby-pink skirt.

 

“Well, it’s family owned so the owner called me up to say her granddaughter was nearby one of the branches and could drive up with them.” The doorbell rung as Robb finished his sentence.

 

“That must be them,” Sansa said. “I’ll go greet them and you get back to your cake, okay?”

 

Robb raised his hand in mock salute. “Of course, you’re the boss.” Sansa smiled widely, hugging her brother one last time for good measure, before setting off towards the door. “Hey Sansa,” Robb called after her. “The flour look is really working for you.” Sansa’s smile disappeared as looked down at her once pristine outfit covered in flour from hugging Robb. He just laughed before heading towards the kitchen leaving Sansa standing in the middle of the hallway.

 

She couldn’t possibly open the door like this. What would the person think of her? The doorbell rang again. Sansa sighed, realising she had no other option, and made for the door. _Fuck it_ , she thought, as she unlocked the door and opened it.

 

The girl that stood in front of her was oddly familiar, but Sansa couldn’t seem to place her. Her light brown hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and her brown eyes seemed to almost shimmer with flecks of gold. The snow had begun to rest in her hair, little soft dots of white among her curls. Her plump lips pulled into a smile when she met Sansa’s gaze. In her hands, she was holding a flower arrangement to her chest. White roses and lilies dotted with sprigs of lavender.

 

“Hi,” she said, her teeth chattering. “I’m Margaery Tyrell, from _Tyrell’s Flowers_. My grandmother sent me.”

 

Sansa smiled and nodded. “Please come in, you look frozen.” Margaery smiled appreciatively, as if by inviting her out of the cold, Sansa had saved her life. She probably had, thought Sansa, the girl looked as if she had never been anywhere cold in her life. Her tanned skin stood out against the snow.

 

“Thank you,” Margaery said. “I’m not good with the cold.” Sansa guided Margaery into the entrance hall where a group of staff awaited instruction. _Robb must have sent them_ , Sansa realised. A staff member reached to grab the flower arrangement from Margaery, who looked like she was straining to hold it.

 

Sansa turned to Margaery. “Are the flowers just in your car? Is it out front?”

 

“Yes, and yes,” she responded. “The car is open.”

 

“Perfect.” Sansa smiled. “Would you guys be okay to just grab them for me now and place them on the tables please.” The staff nodded in unison and headed towards the front door. Sansa watched as they all disappeared from the house then turned to Margaery.

 

“I’m sorry about this,” she said, gesturing to her flour-covered clothes. “It’s entirely my brothers’ fault.” Margaery laughed softly, her sweet voice filling up the entire hallway. Her laughter was familiar. It hit Sansa then. The girl stood in front of her was the university swim-team captain.

 

Sansa couldn’t blame Joffrey. Margaery was gorgeous. Even more so, close up. And in some small way, Sansa was happy that she was here and not at any low-brow party Joffrey would find himself at.

 

“My brothers are the same,” she told Sansa. “They’re always messing things up. I love them dearly though.” Sansa nodded in agreement, a whisper of a smile playing on her lips. “Plus, I think the flour look is a good look for you.” Sansa hung her head in embarrassment, laughing gently.

 

“Thank you for coming all this way,” Sansa said. “I’ve been planning this party for weeks and I was so scared it wouldn’t all go to plan.”

 

“Well, I couldn’t let a family like the Starks down. Especially with a bond as close as our families.” Sansa stared at her. Of course, she thought, the girl had said she was a Tyrell. The Tyrells and the Starks had been business partners for a few decades. The Tyrells had started with one florist and built on that, eventually coming to own thousands. They had also invested quite wisely in various large food companies and agriculture. Anything anyone ate was basically controlled by the Tyrell family.

 

“Well, I didn’t expect a real Tyrell when I ordered from Tyrell’s, how many branches are there now?” Sansa asked.

 

“Oh, thousands,” Margaery confirmed. “You’re quite lucky though, to see a Tyrell, in the flesh. I go to university near the branch you ordered from so I was able to pick it up.”

 

“Do you go to King’s Landing university,” Sansa asked, curious to know if Margaery really was the girl she had seen on the swim team.

 

“Yeah. It’s about three hours from here.”

 

“Oh cool.” Sansa smiled warmly. “I go there too. I was at the swimming earlier and I couldn’t help but notice you look eerily similar to the captain.”

 

Margaery’s face instantly became concerned. She began shaking her head in disbelief and rested her head in her hands. “I can’t believe it,” she panted, worriedly. “I can’t believe my evil twin is back.” Sansa opened her mouth in shock, not quite believing what she was hearing. She put a hand to her gaping mouth. Margaery looked up at her from between her hands and broke into laughter.

 

“That was too easy,” she laughed. “I _literally_ can’t believe you fell for that.” Sansa tried to play it off, but her face went bright red in embarrassment. Margaery swatted her arm playfully. “Don’t worry, Sansa, I’m only joking with you.” Sansa forgave her quickly, which she mainly attributed to how nice her name sounded in Margaery’s mouth.

 

“Well anyway,” Sansa told her. “You’re an amazing swimmer.”

 

Margaery blushed at the compliment. Sansa noticed instantly. Swimming must be really important to her. Sansa found it incredibly endearing.  

 

“Well, anyway, I better get going. It’s a long journey back and I don’t want to get caught in the snow.” Margaery said as she spotted the staff re-entering the house, each with a flower arrangement in their arms.

 

Sansa didn’t know what came over her as she blurted, “You should stay.” Sansa didn’t know why she’d invited a girl she’d just met to stay but she deduced it was either because she didn’t want to risk Margaery going back to university and potentially tumbling into Joffrey’s bed, because she didn’t want her to get caught in a snowstorm or simply just because she just genuinely wanted the girl to stay. “Six hours is a lot to drive in one day and I’d hate to ask that of you, especially in this weather. We’re having a party for my little sister, Arya. And, my parents would love for a Tyrell to attend. Like you said, we have such close links.”

 

Margaery considered this for a second, pushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I can never turn down a party,” she told Sansa matter-of-factly. “But are you sure your parents will be okay with that?” Margaery seemed grateful for the offer, and Sansa could see why. She doubted six hours of driving in one day was very fun.

 

“They’d love to,” Sansa told her. “Plus, we definitely have enough guestrooms to accommodate you. You can take your pick.”

 

The Winterfell Manor was huge. The Starks, after all, were a massive family. And there were many guestrooms which proved handy if foreign investors wished to stay the night.

 

“I don’t have anything to wear though,” Margaery said and gestured to the leggings and dark-green university sweater she was wearing. “And I don’t think this will be Stark family party material.”

 

Sansa shook her head and laughed. Margaery was probably right, although having seen her outfit, Sansa was sure Margaery could have pulled anything off. Even in her casual clothing, she still looked more gorgeous than anyone she had ever seen. Sansa gestured to the small _Louis Vuitton_ suitcase by the staircase. “Don’t worry,” Sansa said. “I took more than one outfit and we look around the same size.” It was true, like Sansa, Margaery had a slim build but unlike Sansa, she seemed to curve in all the right places. Sansa just stood tall and lanky.

 

“Perfect,” Margaery said. Sansa snapped to attention, realising her gaze had been lingering on Margaery’s body for perhaps a moment too long.

 

“Anyway, we better get ready quickly. Arya will be here any minute.”

 

“Cool,” Margaery said. “Lead me upstairs to a mirror.”

 

Sansa couldn’t believe Margaery had actually agreed to this. But then again, this girl seemed like the oh-so-cool type of girl that would agree to anything if it involved a good time. Sansa was stunned by this girl, by her looks, _sure_ , but mostly by her care-free attitude. _If only I could be like that_ , she thought, as she led Margaery up the staircase to the first floor. She took a left, passing a hallway of doors until they reached the one at the very end.

 

“I haven’t been here in a few months and I can’t remember if I properly cleaned it before I left, so sorry if it’s messy,” Sansa informed Margaery as a precaution. However, when she swung the door open, she found the room immaculate. _Perhaps mum had let the maid in_ , Sansa thought, as she threw her suitcase onto her king bed and gestured Margaery inside.

 

“Is this the type of thing you usually do?” Margaery asked as she made her way over to the mirrored wardrobes that lined the far side of Sansa’s room.

 

“What type of thing?” Sansa questioned, unzipping her suitcase and searching through the contents. Margaery turned to face her and rolled her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips.

 

“The type of thing where you invite girls you’ve just met to parties.” Sansa felt heat rising up the back of her neck and diverted her attention from Margaery, burying herself in the task of laying out each individual outfit she’d packed on her plush, white bedsheets. Each outfit was complete with shoes and jewellery, she was nothing if not prepared.

 

“I think you should be thanking me,” Sansa said with all the fake confidence she could muster. “The roads would have been dangerous to drive on in this weather.” Margaery considered this, then turned back to examine herself in the mirror as if admitting defeat. Sansa found her eyes drift to Margaery as she played with the loose strands of her hair, twirling them between her fingers to add texture and then repositioning them to frame her face.

 

“Sansa Stark,” Margaery said, smirk returning to her face. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll be inclined to believe that you have a crush on me.”

 

Sansa went bright red. “I have a boyfriend,” she blurted, losing her grip on a necklace she held in her hands. It fell to the floor with a light clatter.

 

Margaery seemed to cover the length of the room in no time at all as she bent down in front of Sansa to pick up the necklace. She rose to meet Sansa’s gaze, her face mere inches from the redheads. Sansa was taller, but only slightly, she noted. Margaery passed the necklace to Sansa, her hands lingering longer than they needed to. After a moment, Margaery turned her attention to the outfits Sansa had laid out on the bed and loosed a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

 

“Oh,” Margaery said as she took in the outfits before her. “You’re very conservative, aren’t you?” Sansa didn’t know how to react – didn’t know if conservative was a compliment or a criticism. Her parents had always told her it was a compliment, but the comment sounded different coming from Margaery’s mouth.

 

Sansa stuttered, “I-I-”

 

“It’s cute.” Margaery reassured her, reaching out for the least conservative outfit Sansa owned – a black, silk, halter-dress. She’d bought it for a Baratheon charity-gala in hopes that it might encourage Joffrey to give her more than a passing glance. It hadn’t worked. The dress wasn’t her style and it had fallen wrong on her lanky body.

 

“I like this one,” she said, holding it up against herself. Even from seeing Margaery hold it up against her body, Sansa knew it would suit her more. The cut of the dress would accentuate every good part about her body. Sansa glanced down at her own body quickly as Margaery turned to view the dress against herself in the mirrors. _Why can’t I look like Margaery_ , she thought hopelessly.

 

Sansa picked out the most modest of the outfits – a simple, baby-pink cocktail dress that fell below the knee.

 

“There’s an en-suite to get changed,” Sansa told Margaery and used her hand to direct her towards the door. For a moment, Margaery stood still as if she was going to strip off then and there, but she seemed to sense Sansa’s unease and smiled gently before making her way to the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

 

There was something about Margaery, Sansa realised then, that made her feel nervous. Not in a bad way, she noted, but nervous in a giddy way. It was as if her confidence and way she carried herself gave Sansa a lifeline from her own boring monotonous existence. She pondered this as she slipped her flour-covered blouse and skirt off and changed into her cocktail dress. The high neckline and full sleeves helped conceal as much of her body as possible.

 

“You look very cute,” Sansa swung around to see Margaery standing in the doorway, leaning against the door frame. Sansa swallowed. She’d been right. The dress did look so much better on Margaery. The dark material that had hung so loosely on her, clung to every inch of the brunette’s curvy frame.

 

“Thank you,” Sansa said, as she played with the material of her sleeves. “You look amazing. You suit the dress better than I ever did.”

 

Margaery rolled her eyes. “I very much doubt that. I’m sure it looked great on you.” Her eyes lingered on Sansa’s body for a moment. Sansa cleared her throat.

 

“Arya will be here any moment,” Sansa said. “We should get going.”

 

“Of course,” Margaery said, her eyes moving upwards to meet Sansa’s. She crossed the room in three bounds and took Sansa’s hand in hers. “I’m so excited to meet all the famous Starks.”

 

Sansa often wonders what would have become of her if Margaery Tyrell hadn’t turned up at her door that night. She wonders if she would have been different – _happier_. If she had known then what she knew now, could she have even found the strength to shut the door in Margaery’s face and walk away.

 

But, then again, how could she even begin to comprehend what was to come?

 

*

 

The party was a success, of course. No one would have expected anything less from Sansa. It was held in the ballroom of the Stark house, like always, and Arya courteously put up with the whole event, even though Sansa knew she’d much rather be doing anything else. Sansa loved Arya more than anything, but they had never been the most similar of sisters, that’s why she treasured events like these so much.

 

The four courses were cooked to perfection and on time, the waiters didn’t drop a single tray, the alcohol kept flowing and the entertainment had arrived. Arya’s favourite band were what Sansa would call coarse. But her sister loved them and so, in great discomfort, she sat through their entire set. She was grateful to Margaery, who sat by her, and who, every twenty minutes, refilled their wine glasses. She could tell Sansa needed it.

 

When the whole room erupted into screams of “encore”, Margaery firmly took Sansa’s hand and led her from the ballroom to the hallway. The hallway was deserted, the rest of the party preoccupied with the entertainment.

 

“I feel like you couldn’t have lasted one more minute in there,” Margaery said, a hint of laughter in her voice.

 

“It’s just not _my thing,_ ” Sansa told her, trying to sound diplomatic. From the hallway, they could still hear the screeching of the lead singer and the metallic crash of base. “Do you mind if we get away from it completely?”

 

“Just lead the way.”

 

Sansa made for the stairs, bounding up two steps at a time. The sooner she was somewhere quiet the better. They scaled three more flights of stairs, and Sansa was grateful that with every step, the music got quieter and quieter. They walked through the hallway of the top floor of the house until they came to a glass-panelled door. Sansa pushed it open, revealing one more set of stairs that led them to a roof terrace.

 

The roof terrace was Sansa’s quiet place. The Stark household was a busy place and as much as Sansa loved her siblings, they also drove her mad. No one ever came up here but her, and she’d made the most of it by decorating it to her taste. Dull fairy-lights lined the entirety of the railing and large panels of glass formed a cover between them and the night-sky. Sansa was thankful for the cover as the snow had continued to fall heavily throughout the night. Sansa clicked a switch by the door, triggering the heating system to start with a rumble.

 

“Stay here,” Sansa instructed Margaery, before disappearing into the house again. She appeared a moment later, her body almost weighed down by the masses of blankets she was holding. She led Margaery over to a wooden bench and draped the blankets over them. Finally, she thought, breathing in the cold air, _quiet_.

 

“It’s very cute up here,” Margaery said. “I’d love a place like this to escape my brothers.”

 

“I’d highly recommend it. Although, maybe give the snow a pass.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry, the Highgarden Estate is perpetually sunny.”

 

“Sounds nice,” Sansa said, resting her head against the back of the bench.

 

“You should visit one time,” Margaery offered. “It only seems fair, considering I’ve stayed at yours now.”

 

“Sorry if you thought that was weird,” Sansa said, an undertone of embarrassment present in her voice. Margaery raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I mean, asking you to stay, when I barely know you.”

 

“Sansa, I’ve stayed the night with girls I know less,” Margaery said coyly. “If anything, you’ve been rather the gentleman.” Sansa rolled her eyes in response.

 

“I do have a boyfriend, you know.” Sansa had already told Margaery this, but felt the need to repeat it now. Almost as if to assure herself of her commitment. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought of Joffrey the entire night. With her siblings and Margaery by her side, she’d had the most wonderful night. She realised then; she hadn’t felt this happy in years. She was glad Joffrey had blown her off. Being in Winterfell, with her family and Margaery, had lifted even the memory of Joffrey. It felt as if nothing could harm her here. Not even the thought of him.

 

“Ah yes,” Margaery said, exhaling loudly. “The famous Joffrey Baratheon.”

 

“How do you-?”

 

“I’ve known about him for a while,” Margaery informed her matter-of-factly. “He’s been coming to my swimming competitions for a while now. It makes my girls uncomfortable. And when I heard your family mention him tonight, I put two and two together and got Sansa is dating a boy who doesn’t deserve her.”

 

“I think he’s trying to sleep with you.” Sansa told her abruptly; voice devoid of any emotion. For a while, Margaery and Sansa sat in silence. Sansa couldn’t believe she’d been so upfront, and she suspected Margaery felt the same way. Girls in baby-pink, modest, cocktail dresses never tell anyone their boyfriend is cheating. They just grin and bear it.

 

Under the blankets, Sansa could feel Margaery’s hand reaching for hers. She took her hand and squeezed gently.

 

“Are you to be engaged?” Margaery asked. She, being a Tyrell, knew better than anyone how powerful families arranged alliances and business agreements. _Why marry an outsider when the collective wealth of a few families could constantly remain in their hands?_

 

“Yes,” Sansa said meekly. Sure, she’d always known she’d have to marry Joffrey at one point, but it was a thought buried deep in her subconscious. She had refused to ever directly confront it, scared that it would send her running. She couldn’t betray her family like that. _Family came first_.

 

“And he treats you badly?”

 

Sansa nods weakly.

 

“Well, we have no option,” Margaery told her, eyes burning. “We have to kill him.” Sansa laughed at this, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The overwhelming realisation that she was going to have to marry Joffrey had begun to set it and it didn’t sit well with her.

 

“I’ve never seen anyone look so sad,” Margaery said after a moment, her eyes searching Sansa’s. She frowned softly as she watched Sansa’s eyes begin to water and pulled her close into a hug. Margaery begun to stroke Sansa’s hair gently as her body rocked with sobs.

 

“Everything is going to be okay,” Margaery reassured her.

 

And it was, _partly_ , thought Sansa, because for the first time, she felt as if she had spoken her truth, and someone had listened. Sansa didn’t know if it was the wine or the emotional exhaustion of admitting her unhappiness, but eventually her tears stopped and she fell asleep, tangled in Margaery’s arms.


	2. II

Sansa woke up alone. She reached her hand out to find the space next to her empty, while the metallic thrumming of electricity from the heater yanked her from her blissful unconsciousness. When she opened her eyes, she found that dawn was just beginning to break, the sky a patchwork of soft blue, purple and pink hues. They all cascaded into each other, creating what looked like the surface of an ocean. Sansa wished she could run her fingers through the lilac waves she’d imagined. Gently, she raised her hand from under the blanket and into the air, moving her fingers in delicate patterns, embracing the morning chill that settled on them.

 

_Margaery._ The thought hit her so suddenly, it felt as if the ocean she imagined in the sky was crashing down on her, engulfing her in wave after wave of memories from last night. With these, the recognition of a slight headache and aching feet hit her all at once. She raised her hands to her head, gently massaging. _Had Margaery left without saying goodbye?_ Even though that thought stung, she pushed it down, desperate to ignore it.

Sansa observed that the snow that had fallen so heavily during the night, had melted quite substantially and the painful glare of the sun was likely responsible. She moved a hand from her head to shade her eyes and used the other to gather the blankets from the bench. The heating had seemed to create a microclimate, the overwhelming heat hitting Sansa as she moved towards the door. She flicked the heating off – _thank god_ – and threw the blankets into the house, following shortly after.

 

The quietness of the house was welcoming. In a household like the Starks, peace and quiet was a rare and appreciated thing. It was still too early for everyone to be up, but Sansa knew in just a few hours time, the house would be practically vibrating with the sounds of her family going about their everyday life – the whistling of a kettle, the clash of cutlery, the sound of her mother telling Bran and Rickon off, Arya pranking Jon and Theon practicing for his next gig at the local pub, _way too_ loudly and _way too_ long. As much as Sansa loved her siblings, she appreciated this early morning sweet-spot where she could walk about the house alone and unbothered.

 

She was surprised when she descended the stairs to find a few maids milling around the hallway and ballroom, cleaning up from the party from the night before. She was so used to her own small flat near King’s Landing University that she had forgotten what a momentous task running the Winterfell Estate was and how many people played a role in that task.

 

“Hello, Miss Stark,” one of the cheery maids said without glancing at Sansa as she came to the bottom of the staircase. She was preoccupied with brushing confetti into a corner.

 

“Hi,” she spoke in response, stopping by the woman. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

The woman stopped her task to look up at Sansa and blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. “Oh no, don’t bother yourself Miss Stark, I’ve got everything under control.”

 

Sansa nodded politely in response and began to make her way to the kitchen, careful to dodge any stray bits of confetti on the floor. As she passed the double doors of the ballroom, she glanced in to see that it had been mostly cleared and restored to its pre-party glory. _Maybe I should get a maid_ , Sansa mused with a gentle smile on her face, thinking of all the time she’d spent keeping her flat clean. She progressed down the hallway to the kitchen, shocked to hear two voices coming from the behind the kitchen door. _Who was up at this time?_ She glanced through the crack of the door to see Robb bent over, filling the dishwasher was dirtied baking utensils. He glanced up to his right to talk to someone that Sansa couldn’t make out. 

 

Suddenly she heard, “Sansa?” She startled and pushed the door open with a jerk. An unwelcome stream of light hit the back of Sansa’s retinas. She blinked a few times and regained her vision, noticing that all the windows of the kitchen were fully open, a welcome breeze settling over Sansa.

 

She glanced around to see Margaery sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs crossed and holding a steaming mug of tea with both hands. She had changed back into her leggings and university sweater, the latter of which she had pulled the sleeves up to cover her hands, so she didn’t burn them on the cup. In even such a casual setting as this, Sansa thought Margaery looked like nothing short of a goddess. The type that men would sail boats into storms for. Or perhaps a siren, she was a swimmer after all.

 

She instantly wishes she had changed out of her dress before coming down to the kitchen this morning, but she honestly hadn’t expected to see anyone.

 

She glanced between her and Robb, realising that she had broken a moment between the two. Robb broke the silence first, “How’re you this morning? Sore head?” He asked kindly. Instinctively, Sansa’s hand rose to her forehead.

 

“I could be worse,” she said. Sansa moved towards the kitchen island and pulled herself up onto the counter. “Although I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea?” she cajoled, using her best puppy-dog eyes on Robb. Resignedly, he sighed and moved towards the cupboard.

 

“Do you and Margaery insist on treating me like a barista?” He said, and Margaery laughed, shooting him a wink.

 

“How could we not?” Margaery joked. “When you make such a good cup of tea.” Robb rolled his eyes.

 

“Chamomile?” he asked Sansa. She nodded. “Arya loved the party last night by the way. The band was a good idea.”

 

“I think she was just grateful I didn’t ask Theon to play,” Sansa joked. Robb laughed lightly, grabbing a teabag from a nearby jar and dropping it into a mug.

 

Margaery turned to face Sansa, eyes shining and cheeks rosy. She’d pulled the top layer of her hair into a messy bun, allowing the rest to tumble down her shoulders in messy waves.

 

“I didn’t want to leave you on the roof terrace,” Margaery told her, concern in her voice. “But you looked so cute sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

“Cute sleeper?” Robb said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Do we know the same Sansa?” Margaery raised an eyebrow quizzically. He turned from the counter and handed Sansa her mug which she took appreciatively, before he began to lean on the opposite counter. “Once, on a family road trip, Sansa fell asleep on my shoulder and drooled all down my new shirt. You can’t imagine how upset I was.” Robb said gleefully, relishing in the embarrassment that crept up on Sansa, turning her cheeks bright red. Sansa reached for the nearest thing to her, a plastic whisk, and threw it at Robb who ducked gracefully away from it, much to Sansa’s annoyance.

 

“I hate you,” she said, and took a sip of her tea. She was desperate to distract from the embarrassment she felt. Margaery just laughed knowingly throughout the whole dispute. _She grew up with all brothers_ , Sansa remembered, _she probably understands_.

 

“Well I’m pleased to announce that I had no drool-related incidents,” Margaery said and shot a warm smile at Sansa. She felt her whole body fall into a sense of ease. “I really should get going though. It’s a long drive back.” Margaery placed her half-empty cup on the counter and made for the door. She threw a wave at Robb and disappeared from the room. Sansa followed.

 

Margaery turned around expectantly and saw Sansa standing just behind her.

 

“I thought you might need directions,” Sansa said. “To the garage.”

 

Margaery smiled warmly. “Don’t worry, Robb had the valet take it to the door for me.” Sansa nodded in response.

 

“Well, see you around, I guess.” Sansa said.

 

“Yeah,” Margaery responded warmly, but Sansa thought it sounded unsure. “See you around.” With that, she turned on her heel and made for the front door. Sansa stood still as she heard it swing open and then shut with a _click_. She suddenly felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realised, it was very unlikely that she would see Margaery again. She should have said something, anything. Asked for her number or offered her breakfast. _But no_ , thought Sansa, _you stood there like an idiot and watched her leave_.

 

Sansa walked back into the kitchen to find Robb had returned to his task of filling the dishwasher. “Why did you tell her that?” she asked, startling Robb, who dropped a spatula onto the floor.

 

Robb just laughed in response, picking up the spatula and slotting it into the machine. He glanced up to Sansa to see that her face showed no sign of amusement. “Oh, _come on_ , you’re not actually mad, are you?”

 

With that, Sansa let her body crumple to the floor dramatically. Robb blinked. “Margaery is the coolest girl I’ve ever met, and you just told her I drooled over you and now she’s gone running. It was one time, Robb, _one time_.” Robb ducked to the floor to better talk to Sansa.

 

“Sansa, come on, I doubt Margaery minded that much. She’ll still want to be your friend.”

 

“You’ve ruined it, Robb, you’ve ruined it all,” Sansa cried melodramatically. “I may as well lie on this floor until the end of time and _perish_.” She dragged the last word out on a choked sob.

 

“Then _perish_ ,” Arya squealed dramatically from the doorway. Sansa propped herself up onto her elbows and turned to face the doorway, where Arya stood in her pyjamas, clutching a plate with the remains of a blue-frosted birthday cake on it. She must have taken it from the ballroom, thought Sansa.

 

“Arya, please don’t talk to me in memes right now,” Sansa pleaded. “I am too distraught.” Arya laughed loudly, walking into the kitchen and placing her plate on the counter. She turned to Robb.

 

“What misfortune has fallen upon our beloved sister?” She said with faux concern lacing her joking tone.

 

“Remember Margaery from last night,” Robb said, and Arya nodded.

 

“Yeah, she was lovely. There’s nothing I love more than a wealthy gate crasher.”

 

“Well,” Robb began. “Sansa fancies her and – ”

 

“I do not fancy her!” Sansa squealed pathetically. “I have a boyfriend.”

 

Arya very obviously stifled a laugh. “Sure Jan,” she said, pulling herself up onto the kitchen counter. Sansa glares at her.

 

“Who’s Jan?”

 

“It’s a meme, Robb, how can you not know that?”

 

“Arya, do I look like I know what a meme is?”

 

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Sansa said, exasperated. “What does matter is Robb ruined my potential friendship with a girl who is obviously way too cool to be my friend.”

 

“Are you positive about that?” Arya said, swinging her legs off the edge of the counter.

 

“I’m positive,” Sansa said, returning her face to the floor so that she could better mope. “I’d honestly just prefer if we pretended she never existed so I can just forget about her.”

 

“Oh,” Arya said. “You probably won’t be wanting this then.” Sansa looked up to see Arya produce a piece of folded paper from the pocket of her pyjama bottoms. She unfolded it to reveal a page marked with the King’s Landing University crest and below it, a table, where the times of various swimmers had been scribbled in. Arya turned it onto the blank side and held it out for Sansa and Robb to see.

 

 

_It was so nice to meet you, Sansa. Text me sometime xx_

Sansa read the note, taking in the message and the number below it. She stood up immediately and went to reach for it. Arya pulled the note from her reach. A smirk settled on her pale face. “Not so fast,” she said, relishing the look of confusion and anger on Sansa’s features. “I thought you said we were just to pretend she never existed and forget about her.”

 

Sansa frowned and reached for the note again. Like the first time, she found it out of her reach, Arya’s moving it from her hand just in time. “Arya, I swear to God, if you don’t give me that note – ”

“Or you’ll what?” Arya asked mockingly, raising her eyebrows. “You’ll drool on me?” Arya barely had time to slide from the counter before Sansa lunged at her, grabbing onto thin air. Arya shot through the kitchen door, her footsteps getting quieter and quieter as Sansa regained her balance.

 

“You can’t catch me,” she heard Arya’s voice shout from the hallway. “I have the power of god _and_ anime on my side.”

 

Robb shot a confused look at Sansa who answered with a shrug. “Probably another meme or something,” she told him before running into the hallway after Arya.

 

Robb returned to loading the dishwasher, praying that he’d be able to finish the task before someone else distracted him. As he set into the monotonous motion, he heard a door slam upstairs, the voices of Rickon and Bran screeching and then finally, like a crescendo of awfulness, the wail of Theon’s voice, accompanied by his awful acoustic guitar playing. _Was this house ever quiet?_

_*_

 

Sansa had stayed for breakfast before making her way back to university. She had a class in the afternoon, and she had no intention of missing it.

 

She had managed to wrestle the note Margaery had left out of Arya’s hands just as the opening chords to one of Theon’s more depressing numbers began to play loudly throughout the house. Arya had become distracted, allowing Sansa to pin her down and take the piece of paper. In unison, they had run back downstairs to alleviate the ear pain that came with Theon’s wailing.

 

“We should never have adopted him,” Arya said, deadpan. Sansa rolled her eyes knowingly. To anyone else, Arya would have sounded coarse and mean but Sansa understood her humour well. Theon’s parents had been friends of Sansa’s parents. His parents had died in a car crash when he was just a baby and the Starks had been more than happy to accept Theon into their lives.

 

Breakfast had passed too quickly. How Sansa cherished moments like those with her entire family. Robb, Jon, Arya and Sansa had all moved out and so having the whole Stark family over for breakfast was quite an achievement. However, anytime they did all find themselves around the table, they slotted into their old ways seamlessly.

 

When it was time for her to leave, the family had gathered by the door to say their goodbyes to her. “You know, I’ll be back in two weeks for the spring holiday?” Sansa asked.

 

“Yes, we know,” her mother said. “But you still know we’ll miss you terribly.” She pulled Sansa into a hug, placing a kiss on her forehead. When her mother let go off her, she turned to her father.

 

“Stay safe on the road,” her father warned, pulling her into another hug.

 

“I will,” she promised and waved goodbye. When the door shut behind her, she felt alone. She wanted to grow old in Winterfell, she wanted to wrap herself in the familiarity and comfort it brought her. The last thing she wanted to do was drive back to King’s Landing University, to drive back to Joffrey. It was as if she were driving directly into a Colosseum full of hungry lions.

 

She reached her hands into her coat pocket and felt the note from Margaery brush against her hand. Sure, driving back brought her closer to Joffrey but this time, she was driving back to something new. The promise of a friend. She grabbed her phone from the back pocket of the pair of jeans she’d changed into and withdrew the note from her pocket, ready to put Margaery’s number into her contacts. _Damn_ , she thought, as she tried to turn on her phone, the screen remaining black as she pushed the button over and over. _It must be out of charge_.

 

She replaced the phone and note back into her pocket and got into her car. As she drove through the gates at the end of the manor and turned into the main road, she couldn’t help but feel excited about what was to come. How naïve she was to think that the lions weren’t waiting to consume her whole.

 

*

 

As soon as Sansa made it back to her tiny flat, she unpacked and plugged her phone in to charge. Sansa’s flat was definitely small. It wasn’t on the bad side of town or anything, it just wasn’t representative of her wealth by any means. She’d decorated the entire space in pastel hues and various potted plants lined the sunny windowsills. Almost every surface in the flat was littered by various law textbooks. While she waited for her phone to charge, she boiled the kettle and made herself a cup of green tea, which she very nearly spilt, having tripped over a commercial law textbook on the way back to her phone.

 

The next five minutes were spent nervously sat by her phone, waiting for the screen to jerk to life. When it did, Sansa was met with the familiar picture of her and Joffrey she had set as her lock screen. She almost gagged as she took in the shot of them vacationing with his family in the south. Despite it being just a photo, Sansa could read the hatred they both had for each other from the still frame. A photo is worth a thousand thoughts indeed, she thought, snatching the phone up from her bedside table.

 

It took Sansa all but a minute to grab Margaery’s note and input her number into her contacts. However, it did take her almost an hour of hard, critical thinking to structure a text to send to Margaery. Sansa tried to rationalise it in her head, but Margaery truly was the coolest person she’d ever met, and she wanted so desperately to be her friend. Whatever she sent had to be cool but not try hard, laidback but not nonchalant. _Oh, for god’s sake_ , she thought eventually, smashing letters on her screen until a sentence was formed. She didn’t even read it over before hitting send. Sansa threw her phone back to bedsheets immediately, as if it were burning her hands. The phone landed with a dull thud.

 

Sansa began to bite her nails. She picked up her public law textbook and tried to read it. She put it down. She picked it back up again. She flicked through the passages absentmindedly. She got up. Paced around her flat. Looked out at window. Looked down at her watch. _Fuck_. She had a class in five minutes.

 

She snatched up a folder from the counter of her kitchenette and a backpack that lay on her sofa. She grabbed her phone and stuffed it into her back pocket without even looking at the screen. She didn’t _want_ to look. Her mind was dizzy with the fear of rejection, despite how little she knew about this girl.

 

Her afternoon class was an elective, and nothing to do with her core law degree. However, Sansa wasn’t in the habit of skipping classes and that wasn’t going to change, despite it not being an important class. She had picked ‘Introduction to Literature’ on a whim when she’d selected her classes and it had quickly become one of her favourites. Law was something Sansa felt she _had_ to do. She was passionate about it, believing it was the only way she could cause change within the world. However, getting lost in book after book was proving to be far more enjoyable than remembering hundreds of court cases.

 

She arrived at the lecture late and quietly slipped into the backrow of the theatre. From her bag, she silently shuffled her laptop and her copy of Walt Whitman’s _Leaves of Grass_ onto the small surface space in front of her. She allowed the lecturer’s voice to wash over her, transporting her somewhere new.

 

The class passed uneventfully, though Sansa couldn’t help but feel perturbed by the blonde girl sat at the end of her row who kept glancing at her throughout the lecture.

 

She was in the process of stuffing her tattered second-hand book into her bag when she felt the presence of someone near her.

 

“I’m Daenerys,” the voice said. Sansa looked up to see the blonde girl stood beside her. Sansa blinked twice. Daenerys looked ethereal, like some sort of fallen angel. Her hair was pale blonde, almost white and was decorated in an elaborate up-do of braids. Sansa couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light or if the eyes staring back at her truly were purple. Sansa noticed then that the girl had outstretched her hand and was waiting for Sansa to shake it. She obliged.

 

“I’m Sansa,” she said, unsure. No one had ever introduced themselves to Sansa and she was uncertain why Daenerys had taken in interest in her. Sansa collected her bag, swung it over her shoulder and made towards the exit. Daenerys followed, remaining by her side.

 

“I thought you might be,” she said, smiling widely. “Margaery described you pretty well.”

 

Sansa faltered. “Margaery?” she asked curiously. “Why was she describing me?” Sansa and Daenerys turned a corner, making their way to the exit. The sunlight of the outside was almost blinding. Their literature professor was incredibly melancholy and taught all classes in very poor lighting. She shaded her eyes as they entered the university courtyard.

 

“Oh, she seemed very interested in you, Sansa,” Daenerys told her. “She thinks you’d be very at home with us. She’s very interested in having you join us – ”

 

Daenerys’s sentence was clipped short as Margaery came into sight, trailed by two other girls. She shot a loaded glance at Daenerys which made her turn her attention to the ground.

 

“Surely you aren’t trying to pressure Sansa into joining the swimming team, are you, Daenerys?” Margaery pressed. They seemed to exchange a knowing glance.

 

“Margaery’s always keeping an eye out for people who can join the team,” Daenerys told her as if she’d parted with some great secret.

 

“Oh,” Sansa said sheepishly. “I’m already on the tennis team.” Margaery exhaled, eyes conveying greater sadness than Sansa’s admission should have caused. Sansa noted that the entire exchange felt fake.

 

“Damn it,” she said. “We could have done with training another swimmer for nationals. Maybe it’s for the best though, our training schedule is _rigorous_.”

 

“ _Right_ ,” Sansa said, laughing nervously. Daenerys and Margaery shared another glance.

 

“Well anyway,” Daenerys said, breaking the silence. “We have a class to get to.” She pointedly glanced at the two girls by Margaery who nodded in agreement. “It was nice to meet you, Sansa.” With that, Daenerys bounded forward, the other two girls falling into step beside her. One of them slid their arm around Daenerys’s waist as they walked away.

 

A beat of silence passed between Sansa and Margaery. “Your friends are nice.” Sansa said, although she wasn’t sure if she entirely thought it. She wasn’t also entirely sure if Daenerys was on the swimming team. Surely, she would have noticed her the day she watched the competition with Joffrey. She was hard to miss.

 

“They’re just a bit pushy with the whole swimming team thing,” Margaery said. “Pay no attention.” Another beat of silence. “Are you busy?”

 

“Not right now, no,” Sansa responded.

 

“Do you want to go for a walk? We could grab coffee at the Union?” It was this easy, thought Sansa, then. For the entirety of her first semester at university, she was yet to make one friend. She found herself buried under with law revision and hadn’t seemed to click with any of her fellow law students. They were all too serious, too set on fighting each other off for internships at top law firms. They were almost feral.

 

Sansa wasn’t hard to get on with, she didn’t think, at least. But people at university seemed to avoid her as if she had the plague. Despite Joffrey, his friends and the forced small talk with the tennis squad, she hadn’t had much interaction. And here was Margaery, not even a full day after having met her, asking her to coffee. It didn’t feel real.

 

“Are you sure?” Sansa couldn’t help but ask, her ugly insecurity rearing its head.

 

Margaery cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Am I sure?”

 

“I’d love to get coffee with you,” Sansa said, smiling and pretending she hadn’t just had a moment of weakness. Margaery smiled in response and linked her arm with Sansa’s, and they began to walk towards the campus courtyard, towards the Union.

 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” she joked, both of them aware that they’d spent no longer than a few hours apart. “Did you get my text by the way?”

 

Sansa shakes her head and uses her free arm to reach for her phone. “I haven’t actually,” she responded. “I was just kind of busy.” She told the lie smoothly, concealing the truth of the matter: that she was too damn scared to check if she’d been ghosted or not.

 

“I like that.” Margaery tells her assuredly. “I wish I could put my phone down for any length of time, but I’m just obsessed.” Sansa was taken aback by this. Margaery seemed like the type of person who would be _way_ too cool for something as mundane as a mobile phone obsession.

 

Sansa retrieved her phone and looked down to see three messages.

 

**14:02, Joffrey** : _Sorry babe, gonna have to cancel our date night, me n the boys have a lot of studying to do_

 

**14:17, Margaery** : _um hi yes it was lovely to meet u?? sorry i had to leave so early this morning, i had swim practice xx_

 

**14:18, Margaery** : _actually, are u busy this afternoon? i’ve been dying to try the new st patrick’s day coffee the union r doing xx_

Sansa all but ignored Joffrey’s text and looked up from her phone to meet Margaery’s expectant gaze. “New St Patrick’s day coffee?” she asked sheepishly. _What the hell was St Patrick’s day coffee?_

 

Margaery met this question with a wide grin. “Oh, it’s so cool!” she began excitedly. “They put green cream on the top and little four-leaf clover sprinkles” Sansa watched in disbelief as Margaery continued to list all the qualities of the drink. _Maybe, just maybe_ , thought Sansa, _this girl is as lame as me_.

 

During the ten-minute walk to the Union, Margaery recounted to Sansa the events of the swimming team practice that morning. By the time they had ordered and found their seats in the crowded seating-area, conversation had turned to the members.

 

“The blonde girl that you met, Daenerys, she’s more of a social member, she doesn’t really compete much. And the two girls that were with me, Yara and Missandei, are both on the swim team. Yara and Daenerys are dating.” Margaery explained methodically, occasionally interrupted by her sipping her coffee.

 

“She seemed really keen to have me join the swimming team,” Sansa said. “I don’t even think I can swim that well.”

 

“Well, at practice this morning, I was telling the team about how nice you were last night, and I think Daenerys was keen to have another social member. Plus, I rarely like anyone, and I think Daenerys was taken aback.” Sansa looked down, desperate to hide the flush that was creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks.

 

“I can’t understand why you like me so much,” Sansa said, eyes fixed on the melting green cream of her coffee. “Everyone else finds me annoying.” Sansa looked up to see that Margaery’s face had fallen into a frown, her plump lips parted. Sansa found her gaze lingering too long on Margaery’s mouth. Some curious part of her wondered what it would be like to feel them against her own.  

 

“Who’s ‘everyone else’?” she asked.

 

“Mostly Joffrey and his friends.” Sansa admitted. Saying it out loud for the first time, she realised how stupid it was to have based all her self-worth on the opinions of a boy who hated her and his friends. Margaery’s expression confirmed this thought.

 

“Fuck Joffrey.” Margaery said sternly, a line of green cream visible on her upper lip. Sansa stifled a laugh a motioned towards her upper lip. Margaery swiped the cream away without so much as a hint of embarrassment. “I’m serious. Fuck Joffrey and his dumbass friends.”

 

Sansa considered this for a moment, leaning back into her chair. She let Margaery’s words replay over her mind in a loop. Sometimes it’s impossible to see something before someone else lays it out for you, thought Sansa.

 

“Yeah,” she said. “Fuck Joffrey and his friends.”

 

Margaery grinned.

 

*

 

Weeks passed before Sansa saw Margaery again. With the radio silence on Margaery’s end, Sansa had forced the pretty girl out of her mind and returned to her normal routine: essay writing, tennis practice and bad, perfunctory sex with Joffrey.

 

It’s not that Sansa hadn’t thought of Margaery, _of course_ she had. Thought of her eyes, her laugh, her back pressed up against the walls of Sansa’s apartment and moaning her name. But they were _stupid_ thoughts and she had an essay on ‘Song of Myself’ due and there was no logical reason she should be thinking so much about that Tyrell girl. But she was, _of course_ she was.

 

She thought about her in the shower, thought about her while dissecting Whitman’s poetry and with Joffrey’s every thrust and grunt, she thought about how much better it would be to hear Margaery instead.

 

Sansa didn’t exactly know what had caused her once innocent thoughts of Margaery to avalanche into the thoughts of how she tasted but she reckoned it had something to do with her boyfriend. Joffrey was awful, like always, but his particular brand of awfulness had become more apparent to her since Margaery’s scathing remarks.

 

Since their talk over coffee, Sansa had thought about pulling the metaphorical trigger on her relationship at least five times. Every time she had come close, one thought rattled about in her mind until she snapped out of it. _Family comes first_.

 

_Well, fuck family_ , Sansa thought as she finished the conclusion to her literature essay.

 

Sansa slid her open laptop off her lap and onto the empty space beside her on the couch. She reached for her phone and pulled up her and Robb’s messages.

 

**19:21, Sansa:** i can’t do this anymore, i can’t be with joffrey 

 

**19:21, Sansa:** will all hell break loose at home?

 

Sansa watches as three dots appear at the bottom of her screen.

 

**19:22, Robb:** you have to do you, although i don’t think our parents would take it too well. they always talk about how much they have riding on their partnership with the baratheons and the lannisters

 

Sansa didn’t want to hear it. But he was right. _This was her own stupid fault anyway_ , she thought, _stupid Sansa and her daydreams and fairy tales._

She was just about to turn her phone off, pretend the conversation hadn’t happened and accept her fate when another message flashed up on her screen.

 

**19:24, Margaery:** hi been so busy the past few weeks with work but miss you!!! are u busy? wanna meet at the uni pool in 5? Xx

 

Sansa stared at her phone for the best part of a minute. Despite thinking about Margaery constantly, Sansa had taken the lack of messages she’d received from the girl as a sign that Margaery simply wasn’t as interested in Sansa as she was in her. She’d just about accepted that Margaery had realised that Sansa, like Joffrey always said, was annoying. But she’d just been busy, which when Sansa thought about it, made perfect sense.

 

She’d missed the spontaneity of Margaery Tyrell. Margaery was the ‘of course I’ll come to your party’ and the ‘meet me in five’ type of girl. Sansa couldn’t help being attracted to it. She’d followed rigid routines her whole life and to meet someone who so blatantly didn’t conform to routine was mind blowing.

 

Something about this made Sansa squeamish. Any event she attended had to be arranged a minimum of two days before and she had to plan her outfit, transport and nail polish. But Margaery’s message had to seemed to create an overwhelming feeling within her. Fuck it, she thought. She messaged Margaery back and in the next minute, had gotten up, grabbed her coat and was running towards the sports centre of the university.

 

The thought of Margaery ignited something in Sansa that she’d never felt before. She felt like freedom. Her whole life had been dictated by her family name and Margaery felt like an escape from that pressure. The pressure of living up to being Sansa Stark and finally, Sansa Baratheon. Even thinking about the change in surname made her feel ill. She buried it, picking up her pace.

 

She slipped into the sports centre and made her way towards the pool, catching her breath. The entire pool and main hallway were separated by glass panels and Sansa could see the swim team doing sprints, Margaery watching over them. She watched as Margaery blew a whistle and the girls begun to leave the pool and make towards the changing rooms. Sansa took this as the prime opportunity to make her way inside.

 

By the time Sansa reached her, Margaery was sitting in the stands, her head bowed over a clipboard. She seemed focused so Sansa decided not to interrupt her and stood awkwardly by the edge of the stands, playing with the cuff of her coat.

 

“Hey Sansa!” Sansa turned her head to see Yara standing on the other side of the pool, waving at her. Yara’s resemblance to Sansa’s adopted brother, Theon, was startling. Sansa blinked twice before waving back at Yara, who turned on her heel and made for the changing room. The commotion seemed to have caught the attention of Margaery, because when Sansa turned her attention from where Yara had been, she found her soft-brown eyes staring up at her.

 

“Hello Sansa,” she said, a smirk resting on her lips. She smiled like a predator, Sansa realised, but that doesn’t make it any less hot. “You got here quickly. Eager?”

 

Sansa looked down, embarrassed by her flushed face from the journey there. “Well, you said five minutes and I didn’t want to be late.”

 

Margaery laughed, and Sansa couln’t help but look up at her. “I didn’t mean literally five minutes, Sansa. But I’d expect no less from such a queen of punctuality.” She returned to her clipboard, scribbling her initials on the piece of paper that rested on it and placed it down beside her.

 

“Well, it was either this or edit the first draft of my essay,” Sansa told her plainly. “And this won, by a lot.”

 

Margaery smiled sympathetically then patted the spot next to her on the stand. Sansa went to sit beside her.

 

“What’s it on?” Margaery asked and stretched her legs out to rest on the back of the chair in front of her. Sansa mirrored this movement.

 

“It’s on Whitman,” Sansa told her. “It’s for my lit class.”

 

“Ah,” Margaery said, recognition in her face. “So what if I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes.”

 

“The very one.” Sansa told her, recognising the lines from one of his poems.

 

“I quoted that once, you know,” Margaery told her, her classic smirk playing on her lips as she recalled the memory. “Some fuckboy came up to me at a party and told me I was the hottest person he’d ever seen.”

 

“Wow,” Sansa said. “Boys really do throw themselves at you, huh?”

 

Margaery rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I looked him dead in the eye and I said, ‘Hot? That’s the best you can come up with? I’m large, I contain multitudes. And all you got is that?’”

 

“Shooting the boys down through poetry, that’s very edgy and intellectual of you.” Sansa told her and Margaery threw her head back in laughter. _God, she was beautiful._

 

“I think any good put down should require some literacy inspiration,” she said, suddenly serious. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t live everyday hoping that Oscar Wilde would approve of me.”

 

“That’s valid,” Sansa concurred. They sat then, for a few moments, in silence. Sansa took in the stillness of the pool water, the reflections of the florescent lighting and that distinct tang of chlorine.

 

“I’ve been thinking about you for the entire past three weeks, you know.” Sansa broke the silence, her gaze fixed firmly on the water. She felt too embarrassed to meet Margaery’s gaze per her confession.

 

“In compromising positions, I hope.” Margaery responded in a sarcastic deadpan that Sansa realised was shockingly accurate. She laughed awkwardly.

 

“I meant your way of life, your spontaneity. It feels kinda freeing.” Sansa paused, struggling to find the words. “I just feel like my whole life I’ve been trapped in these ideas of who ‘Sansa Stark’ really is and who she needs to be. But when I’m with you, it feels like I can just let those things go. I’m sorry if this sounds stupid, I just – it’s what I feel, y’know?”  

 

Margaery considered this for a moment, absentmindedly playing with a loose strand of thread on her sweater. Sansa felt like that moment of silence might have killed her but eventually, Margaery smiled. “It’s not stupid. I get you,” said Margaery and Sansa realised that those six words felt like a lifeline, like a promise of something greater, something more.

 

They sat there for another beat of silence, soaking up the exchange that had just passed between them.

 

“Any good at swimming?” Margaery asked her finally, turning to face her. Sansa rolled her eyes in response.

 

“I think it’s possible I might be the worst swimmer of all time,” she said plainly.

 

Margaery stood up suddenly. “Well, I can’t have that. I’ll teach you.” She reached for Sansa’s hand and led her towards the edge of the pool.

 

“But I don’t have a swimsuit,” Sansa explained.

 

Margaery just smirked in response. “You don’t need a swimsuit to swim, silly.” As if to prove this point, she yanked her sweater over her head and removed her shorts, socks and trainers until she was just standing in her lilac, lace underwear. Sansa swallowed. _Oh boy_. Sansa watched as Margaery shot her one last grin before diving into the pool and disappearing under the water. She emerged a few seconds later, her once soft hair slick with the wet, water droplets clinging to her long eyelashes. “You coming in?”

 

The invitation seemed to be calling to some innate foolish part of Sansa and eventually tipped her over the edge, head first into a sort of trance. Her hands seemed to move of their own accord as Sansa removed her clothes. It was only when she stood there, on the edge of the pool with nothing but two thin layers of pale-pink lace covering her, did she realise no one had seen her like this except Joffrey. But how different it felt now, to be in front of Margaery and not him.

 

She shuffled into a sitting position and eased herself into the cold pool. Margaery’s gaze never faltered but it read like an invitation and Sansa didn’t feel an ounce of insecurity as she half-walked, half-swam to meet her.

 

“Look at you,” Margaery told her. “You’re basically Olympics-level.” Sansa smiled widely.

 

“I’ll be replacing you as captain before you know it,” she responded, full of faux-seriousness.

 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Stark,” Margaery warned jokingly, eyes glinting. Sansa hadn’t comprehended how close they were until that moment, and something about the space between them seemed so malleable when it was just water. It struck Sansa then, as well, how quiet it was in the pool. With the lights shining down on them, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

 

“It’s nice here,” Sansa said. “Peaceful.”

 

Margaery nodded. “It is. I like to come here when all the team are gone and swim to the middle of the pool, turn onto my back and just float,” Margaery explains, candidly. “It feels so otherworldly. Knowing I could drown so easily but the air in my lungs is keeping me afloat. It’s like I’m balancing between two worlds.”

 

“What do you prefer?” Sansa asked. “That or swimming?”

 

“Swimming.” Margaery told her. “It’s peaceful in its own way. There’s just something about your arms cutting through the water and how the water responds. It’s like a dance.”

 

“I’m definitely not that passionate about tennis,” Sansa admitted. “I mostly just do it because it looks good on my resume.”

 

Margaery frowns. “What is it with you Starks? You need to loosen up. Have some fun.” Margaery splashes her lightly.

 

“It’s just how we’ve always been. Our family name is important, and we’d do anything to keep it that way. There’s no room for personal dreams or desires when you want to maintain something as great as the Stark name. Family comes first. Always.”

 

“Even when it means marrying Joffrey?” Margaery asked, concerned.

 

“Even when it means marrying Joffrey.” Sansa told her, without skipping a beat.

 

Margaery shook her head. “I wish there was another way.”

 

“That’s just the way life is.” Sansa said.

 

“No.” Margaery told her. “No. Life is the way _we_ make it. You always have a choice.”

 

“I do have a choice. My family and Joffrey or no Joffrey and no family.”

 

“You could come to Highgarden,” Margaery offered. “The Tyrells could be your family. Plus, I’ve talked to Robb, and I know he would never turn his back on you.”

 

Sansa smiled at the memory of her and Robb in the kitchen. “You and Robb seemed to get on.”

 

“Yeah, he’s nice. You’re lucky to have him as a big brother. I think he’d go to the ends of the earth to protect you.” Sansa wasn’t one hundred percent sure something was going on between Margaery and her brother, but the thoughts were there, and for some reason, she didn’t like them.

 

“Are you?”

 

“Oh god no.” Margaery cringed at the implication. “We talked for like half an hour and most of the time, we just talked about you.”

 

“Oh.” Sansa said. A moment of silent passed between them. “What were you saying?”

 

“Oh, just about how gross your drooling is.”

 

Sansa splashed Margaery. “Hey! I’m being serious.”

 

“Mostly just about you and Joffrey. I get the feeling Robb doesn’t like him either.”

 

“You could say that,” Sansa laughed nervously.

 

“Well, Robb and I conspired to kill him, but we thought that might be a bit too far.” Margaery joked.

 

“Joffrey’s death is probably the only thing that could get me out of this stupid arrangement.” Sansa said sadly.

 

“Do you think you’d be upset if he died?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sansa told her honestly. “Like, yeah, I suppose. But it’s the same way I’d feel if like if I saw a famous person die. I’d be upset, but ultimately, I don’t know if it would impact me. I just really don’t know.”

 

“Well, you’ll likely never find out,” Margaery said. “People don’t just go dropping about dead.”

 

“Even if you wish some people would,” Sansa laughed hollowly.

 

Margaery rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m teaching you to swim. Come on.”

 

Sansa spent the next half hour pathetically trying to swim about the pool and mimic anything close to the sheer power Margaery displayed in the water. Sansa didn’t think she’d seen anything that compared. She’d often stop mid-stroke and just watch Margaery power ahead, arms slicing into the water without effort. When Margaery realised that Sansa was a lost cause, they’d made their way to the edge of the pool, their elbows leaning on the surface behind them, legs dangling in front of them.

 

The silence between them felt palpable. As if it were alive and urging Sansa to say something. She conceded.

 

“You know what you said earlier? About me imagining you in compromising positions?” Sansa broke the silence; not sure what part of her brain was urging her to say this. It’s as if around Margaery, her secrets wanted so desperately to spill from her lips.

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Margaery said coolly. “How could I forget your heart breaking put down?”

 

“I have. Thought about you like that, I mean. There’s something about you.” Margaery turned to face Sansa, eyes locking onto hers. If she felt anything about what Sansa had just said, her emotions weren’t showing on her features.

 

“Honesty suits you,” Margaery told her plainly, as if she were reading something as boring and obvious as a shopping list. “I’ve done the same.”

 

Sansa bit her lip. “So, now what?”

 

“You have a boyfriend,” Margaery mocked. “Who you love to remind me of.”

 

“Can’t we just forget about him. For now, at least.” Sansa pleaded. Margaery raised an eyebrow.

 

“So, Sansa, now what?”

 

Sansa took her chance, closing the space between her and Margaery. Up close, Sansa could see the freckles that dotted Margaery’s nose, the waterproof mascara that had smudged around her eye, contrasting the blue of them so dramatically, and the drops of water still clinging to her cheekbones. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and for the first time, Sansa could sense the girl’s confident façade crumble. It made Sansa dizzy with her own confidence.

 

She drew her lips into a smirk, one to match Margaery’s as she whispered, “Nervous?”

 

Sansa didn’t give Margaery time to respond before she connected her lips with hers. She slid her hands around the back of Margaery’s neck and pulled her deeper into the kiss.  It wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt with Joffrey. The kiss made her feel like she was burning alive but in a good way she couldn’t quite describe. It tasted like freedom and danger and promise mixed into one, and Sansa realised she was starving.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://earlsgrey.tumblr.com/)   
>  [fic pinterest board](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/cmilllllie/standing-there-with-nothing-on-shes-gonna-teach-me/)   
>  [fic spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/millxe/playlist/4xUfRk7Nb72DTb9O5jJNYM?si=x6AqzroZQfCPi8yyFCkrgQ)


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